Just Beneath the Skin
by EvocativeDecadence
Summary: A LancexBooth angsty/romdrama.
1. Nightmares

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: I do not claim these characters, they all belong to their respective owner Hart Hanson

Nightmares

Lance understood, clinically, what was going on inside his head.

He could diagnose a problem right alongside with the best of them. He did have two doctorates, mind you. But that didn't change what he _felt. _

The list could go on and on, really. Lance lay in his bed on his back, staring blankly up the ceiling entangled in his bedclothes. His tossing and turning during the hours he did sleep had made a right mess of his bed-but he didn't care.

The clammy sweat on his skin made it impossible to cover him; he laid sprawled out nude, letting the cool air of his open window to dry his chilled and sticky skin. He felt dirty, inside and out. These night-terrors were a common occurrence.

Mostly throughout the course of the day Lance would eventually forget just exactly what the nightmares were about, but right after he gasped awake, clawing at the air…and all the hours of the night after…he remembered all of it.

A breeze wafted in, curling over Lance's skin and raising goose-bumps, and his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten well at all in the last…hell, how long had it been?

Anyways, doesn't matter. He couldn't eat anyways, not with the way with bowels clenched and his stomach curdled.

He leaned over to his night table and grabbed an unmarked white medicine bottle. He opened the bottle, comforted by the familiar rattle, and slipped a seemingly benign pill onto his tongue.

As the hours passed, exhaustion and the sleeping agent eventually won over him and he drifted off to uneasy, restless sleep. The only blessing was that this time, he didn't dream.


	2. Living A Lie

Lance straightened his tie and looked in the mirror. Purple bruises sagged under his eyes and his skin was pallid. God, he looked like crap. Great. When he settled into his comfy chair in his office and opened the manila folder that lay on his coffee table (some serial killer Booth wanted him to profile or whatever), he had just begun to skim over the man's preferred manner of disposing of his victims when the door to his office flung open.

"Booth, you didn't schedule an appointment-what…" Lance trailed off as he saw the icy determination in Booth's eyes.

"You. Come with me. Now." Booth grabbed ahold of Lance's arm and dragged him to the door.

"Whoa there, that's kinda-my arm, hey there Booth…um that kinda hurts-oh, okay then" Lance stammered as he was drug to the door.

Booth ignored him. Lance kept quiet as he was pulled along down the hall-much to his chagrin most of his coworkers stared during the process, he just gave them an uneasy, awkward smile- but when they reached Booth's car, he spoke up.

"Booth, this is ridiculous-where are we…"

He trailed off as Booth turned his head and stared him down with a gaze that brooked no arguments.

"Get in." he commanded.

Now, Lance was not stupid. He got in the car. Booth got in, strapping on his seatbelt and they were off. Confused and quite a little bit intimidated, Lance stared out the window, and they sat in silence for the duration of the ride. They pulled up to a hotel about fifteen awkward, long and strained minutes later. Everything was a blur as they entered the room. Booth held the door for Lance and then shut it firmly behind him, locking it after they had both entered.

"Now, we can do this painlessly, or I can make you talk" Booth stated, his obstinate eyes hard and arms crossed firmly crossed over his chest.

Lance stared at him, uncomprehendingly. This whole strange turn of events had left him extremely confused and not a little bit frightened. He knew Booth, and when he wanted something from someone, he pulled out all the stops to get that information. And you know what? Lance really didn't want to know just how in-depth those stops were; he had watched Booth interrogate long enough to never want to be on the receiving end of those steely eyes.

"I- I don't understand, Booth. What is this all about?" Lance stammered.

Great job at keeping your cool man, great job.

Booth's eyes narrowed dangerously. He uncoiled his body and stalked forward until he was nose to nose with Lance, staring unflinchingly into Lance's eyes.

"So, even after all this, you are just gonna stand there and tell me everything is _alright?_ That's funny, because last I checked; normal, healthy people don't drink themselves into a stupor every morning and go to work looking like they just stepped out of a warzone. Trust me; I know what that looks like". Booth bit out, caustically.

'Oh, you better believe it man.' Lance thought bitterly, 'You really have no idea just how bad life can get".

"What are you talking about? My life is just fine." Lance spat out at the fuming man in front of him. If it were even possible, Lance would say that Booth got even madder.

"Are you freaking kidding me right now?!" Booth exploded.

Yup, definitely possible. Most _definitely _possible. Well, alright then. This is…pretty frickin faaantastic.

"Alright, alright, fine. Whatever, man. But you cannot sit there and tell me that everything…is _just fine._ That's bullshit and you know it. NOW, _you_ are going to tell me what's wrong and I will try to figure out how to help you. Because _that's _what friends do for each other, okay? We look out for each other", Booth finally said, after a pause to get his temper under control.

Lance straightened his tie, and brushed off imaginary dust particles from his shoulders and looked Booth dead in the face, and bluntly stated, "Well, you have fun with that. I am leaving. You _heal_ your mind by yourself."

Lance then marched to the door, but mannn! He had never seen someone move so fast before. He bumped his nose right on Booth's collar bone, crashing face first. He stumbled and balanced himself, placing his hands on Booth's wide chest. He leapt away (personal contact has never been Lance's strong suit) but was caught in place by Booth's hands tightly squeezing his wrists, holding him immobile, and to be honest, hurting a little bit.

"Hey! Let me go! What-what are you doing?" Lance stammered.

Booth looked down, straight into Lance's eyes.

"You still wanna tell me everything is _fine?_ Because from where I'm standing, things look a little less than peachy".

In the struggle, Lance's cuffs had become undone. Lance winced, already knowing what Booth had seen, hell-_was seeing._

"I'm- fine?" Lance uttered weakly, giving up with a gusty sigh.

Booth softened.

"Ya right".


End file.
